


mine

by neytirijade



Series: XF Christmas [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 01:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12900933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neytirijade/pseuds/neytirijade
Summary: While searching the depths of Mulder's closet for a blanket, Scully comes across something that piques her curiosity.





	mine

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3: Sweater
> 
> Pure, sickly sweet fluff. Set during the season of secret sex, Christmas 2000. Requiem is nonexistent in my world.

The black and white knit sweater, stuffed in the bottom corner of a dusty box on the closet shelf of Mulder’s bedroom, is probably the most terrifying and most endearing thing Scully has ever seen.

She’d disentangled herself from his sleeping form, leaving him on the leather couch in search of something warmer than his Navajo blanket to sleep in (this was after she turned his thermostat up two degrees; he hated his thermostat messed with, but Scully knew he’d forgive her—after all, it was 20 degrees Farenheit outside, and Mulder proved rather susceptible to the Scully-pout).

When her fingers smoothed along the soft fabric, Scully sighed in relief—which was short lived once it slipped so easily out from under the pile of miscellaneous items it was packed with. But, pulling the garment from its confines, she had been immediately curious. The sweater was black, with snowflake patterns and a whiteout silhouette of Santa Claus and his reindeer. It was about ten sizes too small for Mulder—Scully figured she could probably fit in it—and as lovely as that thought was, as she stood at his closet with a small shiver from the cold, she had a passing thought that made cause for more ice in her bones: _was it another woman’s?_

Scully shook that thought from her head. Even if it was, it’s in the past, she reminded herself. She was the woman in Mulder’s life now. Okay, so she’d had a recurring main role for eight years—but only over the past year has it evolved into something more.

A low voice startles her from her thoughts: “Scully?”

“I’m here, Mulder,” she answers. She gives a quick glance down at the sweater and, partly out of curiosity and the other part out of need for some warmer clothes, decides to bring it with her and ask about it.

As soon as he sees what’s in her hand as she enters the living room, however, Scully wonders if it was the greatest idea.

“Good God, Scully, where did you find that hideous thing?” Mulder half smirks, half grimaces at the item in her hands.

Scully moves back to her spot at his side, nestling in tight to his warm, half-embrace. “I was trying to find another blanket, but I found this up in your closet,” she says. “Where’d you even get something like this, Mulder?”

When she looks up at him, she catches the end of an eye roll. “My grandmother made that for me when I was maybe 16. Nobody had the nerve to tell her that by that age, it already wouldn’t have even fit my right thigh,” he jokes.

“Is this the same nobody who told her that her religion doesn’t subscribe to the myth of St. Nick?” Scully sends right back, receiving an earnest chuckle that vibrates against her shoulder.

“Yep, the very same. Someone ought to burn the thing, really. I could never get rid of it, even after she died.” Mulder watches her run her fingers over the fabric, and they sit in silence for a moment. “You said you were looking for another blanket? Are you cold, babe?”

Scully hums in reply. “Yes, but I couldn’t find anything.”

“You want me to grab the comforter from the bed?”

For a moment, Mulder receives no answer. Then, Scully sits forward and to the side, a defiant gleam in her eyes that he knows all too well—and slips the sweater over her head before settling back against him, laying her head against his chest.

A few seconds pass, then: “Scully, did you just claim ownership of my grandmother’s handmade knit sweater?”

“It doesn’t fit you anyway.”

Mulder hesitates. “Well… no, but what if I wanted to keep it and, uh…. Give it to charity or something?” They both know he’s lost, but as always, he refuses to give in.

Stretching a few inches from him once more, Scully sends a _look_ up in his direction, a smirk edging the corners of her mouth. “Really, Mulder? Charity-- is that the best you can do?”

In response, Mulder only smiles down at her. “You know, you look kind of good in that, Scully.”

“Of course I do. And yes, I claim ownership of the sweater. Its comfy.” Scully has nuzzled back into his side, her eyes closing.

Mulder gives a dramatic sigh. “Ah, well. Sorry Grams. She claimed ownership of both your impeccable stitching _and_ your grandson.”

This earns him an honest giggle from the redhead in his arms, and he responds by bringing the Navajo blanket back around the two of them, pressing a heartfelt kiss against her fiery locks, and settling into the couch once more.


End file.
